


Don't I know you?

by lordegbert



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, YET though, im getting round to it i promise, johns drunk and wants bros junk: the fanfic, well there isnt sex yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordegbert/pseuds/lordegbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all people, of all the clubs, on all nights, he still manages to find you. God fucking dammit. You can't get away from him. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok this is bullshit hi  
> im working on chapter 2 right now

You're leaning against the bar, beer in one hand, the other on your phone, typing out the busty redheads number as she whispers it into your ear, hand stroking down your chest.

_Call me later babe, don't leave me hanging sweetie, I really want to get my teeth into you, you smell so good, god I can't wait for your call._

You won't phone her. Ever. You don't even know her name (but you think it's Cindi.), but she's hanging onto you oh so desperately, pushing your shirt up as her hand trails up, giggling against your neck and you don't quite have the heart to push her off. There's a 78.6% chance she's gotten make up over your collar, and 98% chance there's lipstick on your neck. Great. You're going to have to scrub that off later. As well as make up, you probably wreak of cheap perfume.

You've just sent her on her way and paid your tab. You regret buying Cindi a drink, that was a good $5 out of your pocket. $5 that could have been spent on... Well, anything but her. Socks, cigarettes, facial moisturizer. You remind yourself to buy some cigarettes on the way home. Just as you're turning away ready to leave, you hear him.

"No, I don't want to come home with you. I don't care if you brought me a drink, I'm not interested!"

John Egbert. You'd recognise that voice from anywhere. Of all people, of all the clubs, on all nights, he still manages to find you. God fucking dammit. You can't get away from him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You need a smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> screams bc i dont know what the fuck this is john stop it youre horny bro just fuck him already 
> 
> jfc i cant write what am i doing

Slowly, you turn on your heel and low and behold, there he is. Messy black hair, blue checked shirt and tight black jeans. There’s no wonder that there’s a guy hanging from him, tugging him away from the bar. No matter how much he tugs, John’s pushing back, shaking his head, saying no. He’s looking around, distressed. The guy pulling at him is bigger than him, John has no chance of getting away. Instantly anger bubbles inside you, you hate this guy and you know nothing about him apart from he's groping your brothers best friend. You watch how his hands reach round and grab John's ass, causing him to squeal, pushing at him again. In no way was John weak, he'd punched your arm before and although you wouldn't admit it, it hurt.

You watch them for a moment, eyebrow raised, arms folded across your chest. Everyone else seems to be too busy in their own little bubble of trying to get a one night stand with expensive drinks to notice what’s going on around them. 34% are vastly under dressed, 47% are too far gone to dance straight and the other 19% are watching, waiting for someone to become free. You notice far too much. Like the underage girl, getting her coat whilst the middle age man whom you saw slip his wedding ring off as he came in stands impatiently by the side of her. Even the gaggle of girls whom had been staring at you all evening. Or what’s happening in front of you right now with John.

In a moment of distress, John looks around, instantly noticing you. He quickly covers up the look of panic for a smile, the anxiety still seeping through. Shooting him a look of confusion, you jerk your head, calling him over. He’s quick to lean in, saying something to the guy holding him before they both look your way with John pointing. Having absolutely no idea what he said, you smirk at him, tipping your hat. In a moments blur, John’s stood alone, grinning whilst the other guy’s hurrying the other way.

After pushing his way through the club-goers, John grins at you, clasping a hand on your shoulder. “Thanks man! You really saved my ass back there, literally!” He laughs, seeming far too chipper, still looking behind him, eyes giving away his anxiety. You can tell he's drunk, swaying slightly on his feet, holding onto you as if for support. A drunken John Egbert was the last thing you wanted this evening.

You grab his hand hard, pulling it off. “What the fuck are you doing here? You’re 17. You see what kind of creeps are here? What did you expect to happen if I weren't here? Hm?” Managing to keep your voice level, you don’t let go of his hand, still gripping as hard as before. You didn't realise how pissed you were, but you want to punch John then find that guy and put him in hospital.

“Alright Dad,” he laughs, grabbing your wrist to tug his hand free. “Calm down! I would have just kicked him in the dick. Christ, you really do sound like my Dad.” John’s rubbing his hand, frowning up at you and holy shit you really want to punch his stupid naive face. “Nothing would have happened, I’m not stupid.”

You grab the front of his shirt and tug his face to yours, noses only inches away from each other and your’re fucking fuming. “You’re going to grab your coat then you’re going to meet me outside in ten minutes then I’m going to take you home. Got it?” You hiss. He opens his mouth to protest before you shake your head. “No,” you growl, cutting him off and growing more and more irritated. “No ifs or buts. Get your coat.”

With that, you let him go, watching him stumble a few steps before you’re jerking your chin to the cloakroom. With his head down, John sheepishly pushes through the crowd as you follow, passing him as you climb the stairs to the exit, taking a deep breath when you surface. Not only do you have to look after John, but he’s also inebriated. You hate him more and more each passing second.

You need a smoke.

\--------------------------------

Just as you're stamping out the butt of your cigarette, blowing out the last of the smoke, he emerges stumbling from the entrance still tugging on his coat. It takes him a moment before he notices you leant against the wall. "Bro!" He calls, moving towards you. 

You can't take him back home like that. No way. Not in that state. He's having a hard time standing up, you don't trust him not to run his mouth to his Dad about what had happened with that guy back there. A small nagging part of you screams at you to take him home, let him face his Dad, let him get in shit for it, after all, you owe the kid nothing, you've done enough for him. 

"John..." You start, taking a few steps towards him before he cuts you off, shoving a finger against your lips, threatening to go up your nose, loudly shushing you. 

"Mr Strider. You've done a lot for me tonight and... And I thought it was only fair that I pay you back, you knoooow?" Oh god he's grinning at you, pushing your back against the cold brick wall. As much as you've thought about this, about John going down on you, you don't want it to be now, not in these circumstances when he's drunk and owing you one. Anyone could come around the corner. You're not in the backstreet either, you're right outside the club, there are gaggles of girls stumbling out of the exit, there are men with their arm around their prize hopping into taxi's. There's a 100% chance anyone of them could notice what was happening.

But you want it. God damn do you want it. You'd love to see John on his knees, lapping at your dick, worshipping you, letting you fuck his face until you came all over it. The very thought alone was doing something for you. But as he slides down onto his knees, you stop him, grabbing his wrists and tugging him back up. Not now. Not here. Not tonight.

"John. John I need to get you home, okay?" You're still holding him up as his legs threaten to give way. He doesn't look as if he's even paying attention, instead just grinning dreamily at you as he barely manages a nod. Fucking asshole must had taken a couple of quick shots whilst you were out here. The urge to hit him keeps growing. 

It takes you longer than it should to drag him to the car with a few weird looks and him murmuring dirty things to you which you try your best to ignore. 

Ooh, you're taking me back to your car? Are we gonna do it in the back seat? Are you gonna make me scream? I'd scream for you, Bro, I'd do anything for you, let me show you...

To which each time, you humour him, more focused on getting him home, safe, saying yes, you'll fuck him in the back seat if he's good, if he shuts up now he'll even get bed and breakfast, John shut the fuck up and stand up straight for Christ's sake! 

It's a struggle to even get him in the car. He refuses to be strapped in without trying to grab you, even complaining that you're not fucking him, to which you laugh. The kid is a pain in the ass. If he'd only shut up and go to sleep you could get him home without any injuries, but he's already fallen and cut his arm, grazing his elbows and knees, making faded worn marks on his jeans worse and making new worn marks on his shirt sleeves, ripping the right side a little bit.

Once you're finally in your side of the car, you sigh, pushing up your shades to rub the narrow bridge of your nose. You slowly accept that your night is going to be filled with fighting off a horny drunk teenager in fear of him waking up tomorrow and realising the mistake he's made. As you turn the engine on, pulling the car out of the parking lot, you realise it's going to be a long night.


End file.
